It Started with a Kiss

Chapter 22

As I made my way up to my bedroom, my feet dragging on each step, I couldn't help but heave a sigh at the thought of the mess that had been school. After giving a glance over at my desk, which was currently piled high with my schoolbooks, reminding me that I'd yet to do my homework, I decided to look up the internet, to see the full extent of the damage that had been caused by the Lie-That-Was-Part-Fact. I then realised that Lies-That-Were-Part-Fact were the best kind of lies in reality, especially when it came to destroying a person's reputation. I mean, I couldn't exactly have said that everything that had been said about me had been completely bogus and therefore I could plead total innocence, all because of that friggin picture. I logged onto my laptop and waited for it to start up, my fingers drumming a nervous staccato on my knee in the process. 

"Are you alright Tara?" A voice that I'd become far too accustomed to recently asked, and I turned my head to find my mother leaning against the doorjamb to my room. She looked relaxed, but her face held a hint of some emotion I couldn't put a label on. At first I thought it might be worry, before dismissing that thought entirely. My mother never worried.

"Just peachy," I replied sarcastically, trying to keep the acidic nature out of my tone as I remembered my father's words. Having to treat her with the respect she 'deserved' sucked sometimes, it really did.

"Really? If I had the same day at school that you just had, I'd be pretty upset." She said casually, while I ground my teeth together in annoyance.

"Toby told you, didn't he?" I said, anger at the entire situation welling up within me. Futile and all as the hope was, I'd wished that my brother hadn't heard all that had gone down today, though knowing my school you only had to blow your nose wrong before the news spread like wildfire. Then he had to go and tell her? It was maddening.

"He's a fifteen year old boy who is close to his mother. He needed to tell someone."

"He could've talked to me." I snapped back, my attempt at remaining civil now gone completely out the window. I knew at that point I needed to calm down, so I focused my gaze on my hands, which were currently fisted together. I then attempted to relax my hands and stretch them out, which actually turned out to be harder to do than I thought it would.

"He didn't know how you'd react." She explained matter-of-factly, as if I was the one who had let him down constantly over the past nine months. I felt my hands strain into fists once again, but this time I did nothing to stop them.

"It wasn't like I was going to eat him or something. Or worse, leave him all alone without a decent explanation." I almost spat, as silence stretched between the two of us. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, at least not for me, but I would be lying if I said that it wasn't slightly charged all the same.

"Toby's not the reason you're getting angry now, is it?" She finally asked, her cool demeanor never changing. It frustrated me how easily she was able to keep her cool permanently. At times I wondered if she was even capable of showing those emotions.

"Ugh! Just leave me alone, okay? I don't need you meddling in all this mess too." I snapped, as I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled loudly, before turning back to face her. Her facial expression had changed somewhat, with the unknown emotion that had been on her face now replaced with annoyance.

"Excuse me Missy, I am your mother and you will not talk to me in that tone." She ordered, as a hint of steel crept into her voice. At that point I had had enough. I stood up, promptly threw caution to the wind and said what I'd wanted to say for quite some time now.

"Oh please, you can't come in here preaching about respect, when for the past year or so, you've shown none to me. In fact, you never did. All the times I did something to try and get a little praise from you, and nothing! I'd draw a picture and you'd point out where I coloured in over the lines. I took up debating, like you did in school and you just told me I wasn't putting enough effort in and I wouldn't succeed. When I became vice-president in the student council, you wanted to know why I wasn't president. Never did I get an acknowledgment of the work I'd done, only a reminder of the work I had to do, and all the inefficiencies I possessed. You've hated me since I was little, so don't you dare try and care now! I've had enough of all this. From now on, just ignore me, like you have been for the past seventeen years anyway." There was more silence as I waited for my mother's response, my eyes never leaving hers. I wasn't going to cower away from her any more.

"Is that what you really want, for me to leave you alone?" She asked, her tone sounding almost defeated, but I wasn't buying the hurt act. Angela was a master manipulator when she wanted to be.

"Yes."

"Okay," she replied, while she turned around and walked back out the door she'd come in, but not before she turned to me and said:

"Just so you know Tara, I never ignored you. It's not easy being a parent, but I've always loved you and wanted the best for you. If that means you hate me for it, then so be it." And with that I was left in my room alone, with no sound other than that of my laptop ticking over.

After that, only one thing in my mind was certain: my mother possessed the innate ability of making me feel like animal feces at any given moment.

As if my day needed to be any worse.